Child of the Pit
by reeger72
Summary: Hector had a terrible childhood. Only now that he has found a new, true home, it is in danger, and he must be the one to save it. He will face threats both new and old, and he must overcome them if he is to protect the camp that he loves. (Doesn't feature Riordan's characters except as cameos or supporting characters)
1. Chapter 1

**(Author's Note: I do not own the Percy Jackson series. So yep.)**

**(Author's Note: Any advice or reviews are extremely welcome. Also, none of Riordan's characters will be anything more than cameos or supporting characters. Also, because we are in the middle of the school year, I may not update as frequently as I should.)**

Marilyn Jones was a beautiful woman. Of that, there was no doubt. She attracted the eyes of men and gods. Her light, chocolate-colored hair cascaded down around her shoulders, shot through with streaks of red and pure, jet black, framing a face that always seemed to smile. She wasn't tall, but wasn't short, wasn't unnecessarily large or small. And her eyes, oh her eyes! They were a deep brown, almost black, but they were kind and welcoming, beckoning you to lay your cares upon her as she listened and consoled you. Unfortunately, she was undeniably, irrevocably mad.

She participated in what many called the "Big Top of Death", a gruesome imitation of family fun in which pain, death, and suffering were twisted parodies of fun, laughs and joy. The meat circus served to meet its client's twisted desires, and people bled, burned, and died in that big top. Twisted depravities went on in this place, and people who entered never left the same. Nevertheless, Marilyn would smile, right up to when she cut your heart out and burned it for you, quite literally.

She was also alone, until one day, she met him. She was on her way back to her small home on the circus grounds, after one of her most spectacular, chaotic, bloody performances, when she saw the man standing outside of her trailer.

"Hello" said the man. He was tall, close to 7 and a half feet, she guessed, and his suit was all black, as was his skin, a black like jet, deep and unforgiving, the solid black of mourning and hate, like looking into the abyss. As she got closer, she noticed that his tie and his eyes shone red, but not a red like blood, no, this was a red of chaos, of bodies and houses burning.

"What do you desire of me, sir?" asked Marilyn, for she knew that this man wasn't to be trifled with or scared into leaving.

"First and foremost, I desire secrecy" he said, his voice ringing with an accent that hadn't graced the mortal world in millennia and he gestured towards her trailer, "However, I would also like a private show, if it is convenient?" From the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice, Marilyn knew that he wasn't really asking, but she was happy to acquiesce.

"Why, of course sir." she said joyfully as she unlocked her trailer, "Anything to be of service."

That night was one of the best of her life, but I will not go into detail, because if I delve that deep into the twisted depths of depravity that went on that night, I fear that we will both lose our sanity. Nevertheless, a month later, she found that she was pregnant. Her thoughts went immediately to that night, and she was ecstatic that she would have a child, only hoping that he could be like her and his father.

Slade sat in the dirty alley, looking at the small fire flickering before him, and for the thousandth time, cursed the unluckiness of his childhood. He was born without a father, and to make things worse, his mother, Marilyn, participated in a type of "sport" as she called it, that made him sick. His mother had started cutting on him when he was six, "raising him to relish pain", she said. When he became seven, she started forcing him to participate in her "performances", to bring her the knives, to strike the final blow on the damned, to burn the heart for her. She forced him into her depravity, urging him to be just like her, to be her little carbon copy.

Every night, after the end of the shows, he sits, looking at the flames flickering in the run-down tent, praying that someone, anyone would take him away from this horrid place. Hope was the only thing he had left, the only thing that kept him going through the pain and suffering, the only thing that kept him sane. One night though, when his mother was teaching him a new lesson in pain, his sadness and dejection turned to anger, and he practically exploded with anger and hate, and then he did explode, a noise of pure anger that tore everything around him to shreds. His mother, the trailer, everything was gone. He was gleeful at the carnage he had created, reveling in the death, and this shocked him back to reality. He couldn't believe what he had done, much less that he **enjoyed** what he had done. He was disgusted with himself, and glad he had managed to control his anger before it controlled him.

The next day, he left, always suppressing his anger because he knew that if he did let it out, he would lose himself in the anger, becoming the very thing he despised, his mother. Now he was ten, and he sat in a dirt covered alley, starring bitterly at the fire, remembering the days of the circus, praying and hoping for a better future, for someone to help him to control his anger, to give him a place to stay, for someone who was a real parent, not a twisted parody. The fire seemed to respond, flickering higher and higher as Slade slowly backed away. A small girl who couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 stepped out of the flames. As she turned towards him, Slade was shocked to notice that small, gentle flames flickered in her eyes.

"W-who are you?" asked Slade.

"The answer to your prayers." the little girl stated simply, "I am Hestia."

Hestia had taken him to her home, a beautiful mountaintop palace she had called Mount Olympus. There, she had taught him to keep his anger in check, gave him the gift of peace. She taught him about the gods, the titans, the primordials, everything he may need to know. She taught him not to be a warrior, but a defender, not one who seeks out battle, but one who dutifully protects what he holds dear. When he asked why she showed him, a simple street rat, such kindness, she simply looked at him with her kind, flickering eyes.

"I am a virgin goddess." she stated simply "I have never had children, and I have now come to see you as one of my own."

"But why me?"

"Because you are the son of a god, and you cannot be raised without knowledge of what you are."

"Me? I'm not the son of a god, just the son of a psychopath." he muttered the last part bitterly, downcast as he remembered just who his real mom was.

"Do you really believe that you don't have power?" Hestia looked at him, and he got the feeling she was looking into his soul, and he saw a reflection of that terrible day, when he had lost control, just for a minute, but a minute was enough. "However" she started, snapping him out of his memories, "My blessing will help you to control the anger that seethes within you, and will grant you power so that you don't have to rely on that dreadful emotion in times of need."

"Thank you, Lady Hestia, I will never forget this." Slade intoned as he sunk to his knees before the goddess.

"Now go" she ushered him out of the room they were in. "You will find a washroom in the upstairs hallway, and a small room for you with clothes in the wardrobe. You smell."

After he had bathed, Slade looked at himself in the mirror, almost not recognizing himself. His dark, pitch-black hair remained spiked into a fearsome mohawk, as usual, and he noticed that while his irises were dark and unforgiving, a black like onyx, his pupils glowed a dull orange, no doubt from Hestia's blessing. He marveled at how similar he was to his mother, as he had never looked in a mirror before. He shared her build, not too big, but not too small. He knew from experience that he was fast, but also strong, especially for one his age.

And so the years had passed, Hestia raising him and teaching him to control both his power and hers. Finally, after a year had passed, he felt he was sufficiently comfortable to ask Hestia the one question he had dreaded since she told him he was the son of a god. One day, after a history lesson on which Hestia educated him of all the major and minor gods and goddesses, he broached the subject.

"Hestia, who is my father?" Slade asked cautiously, unsure what the answer would be or how Hestia would react.

She merely sighed, disappointment filling her eyes. "That is something that I can't tell you, my son. You must figure out on your own."

"Okay." he replied, somewhat downtrodden that she couldn't tell him, but happy that he didn't know, because, as they say, ignorance is bliss.

Another year had passed, and now Hestia informed him of what he always suspected would happen.

"You can no longer stay here." she told him "You must now spend your time with your own kind."

"But-"

"You are being sent to Camp Half-Blood." she cut him off, "However, do not think that this means I am abandoning you. I will always watch over you, and if you should ever need advice, simply talk to me."

"Thank you, Mother." Slade said simply. "I will never forget what you have done for me."

"Remember Slade, this is a chance for you to forget about the horrible events of your past. You can move on, change your name if you wish. This is your second chance, and not everyone gets one. Use it wisely."

As they walked from the house to Hestia's temple, there was a comfortable silence between the two. When they arrived at the temple, Slade prepared to leave, turning to say goodbye to the only good mother he ever had.

"Goodbye Hestia." he said as he made to leave.

"Wait, Slade." she said as she pulled something from thin air to give to him. "I had Hephaestus make these for you." They were 4 simple golden wraps that attached themselves to his forearms and shins. "Simply tap them together when you have need of them." He did, and the wraps caught flame, burning up his arms and legs. When the flames cleared, he noticed he was enveloped in a suit of golden armor. He felt the heater shield across his back, and as he pulled the shield into his view, he saw the design emblazoned on the front. A bright flare of flickering flames that disoriented him as he looked, surrounded by a silver dodecagram (look up symbols of Hestia on google), all on a field of black.

"The one thing I cannot give you is a weapon." she said. "I am but a guardian, a defender. If you desire a weapon, you fill have to find or make one yourself."

"Thank you for your gifts, Mother" said Slade "For these, I am ever grateful." He tapped his wrists, and the armor burnt back down to wrist and ankle coverings, and he stepped into the fire, the flames flaring brightly around him, and when his vision cleared, he was standing in a fire pit, surrounded by a picturesque landscape, with a vibrant forest evident. As he continued gazing, he saw a collection of cabins, each decorated in a startlingly different manner, a large open air dining area, an amphitheater, what looked to be a training coliseum, and a large, out-of-place house. He now realised that people were rushing toward him, faces full of alarm.

A centaur trotted towards him, and stopped short of him, a bow in hand, and Slade stepped from the flames, brushing the ashes off of his shoulders. "I am Chiron" he stated simply, "and who might you be?"

Slade took a breath to respond, when the small girl who had been tending the fire looked straight at him, and he heard Hestia's voice echo in his head. "Remember Slade, this is your chance to make a fresh start, to forget about your past, and leave behind the torment on which you were raised."

Slade raked his mind, trying to find a name that may fit him, searching through what Hestia taught him to find a name. Perseus, Jason, Heracles, names great and small flit through his mind, and he discarded each after but a moment. Finally, after a long, tension-filled minute, he found the name he was searching for, the name of a great man who sought only to protect his family and his people. A man that was righteous, and honored by the gods. As Slade looked up at the centaur, he discarded his past in his mind, and embraced his future. "My name is Hector." he said quietly, but no less audibly, "Hector Jones".

She watched carefully as the boy stepped from the flames, brushing ashes from his shoulders as if he arrived in a literal blaze of glory everyday. She had been relaxing by the basketball courts when a blaze of flames caught her eyes. Her sharp eyes took in every detail about him, from his fearsome-looking hair, to his simple, plain clothes, to the stark color of his eyes, seeing the kindness in them, but also catching the barest glimpse of suffering. She noticed the foreplay between him and Hestia, and wondered what he had done to warrant such attention. "This one will need watching" she thought to herself "as a friend or a foe". As she turned, the sunlight glinted against her golden eyes as she walked back to her cabin, all the while thinking about the boy who burst from the flames.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, for those of you that actually read this story, school picked up a ton the past week or two and I didn't have time to write a whole lot. My bad. My writing time is actually increasing in the near future as some of my classes get over. Enjoy the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson. I probably never will, until pigs fly, but that's already happened, hasn't it? So maybe I do own Percy Jackson. Idk, you tell me.**

Hector was in the middle of his orientation, as Chiron showed him around the camp, confirming Hector's suspicions as to what the buildings were. Hector admired the architecture, noticing that each cabin was decorated in its own, unique, individual style. The cabins were many, representing each and every god, even those without children. There were kids ambling around, making things in a giant forge, relaxing on the breathtaking beach, shooting hoops on the court, climbing a giant rock wall that appeared to spew lava and shake you off. Hector admired everything about the camp, recognizing it as a place of strength, of hope, and friendship.

"So Hector, what do you think of the camp?" Chiron asked as he ambled along.

"This is a place of hope, of friendship, of family." he said, "but most of all, it is a place of peace, and I can respect that. You care for these campers, and you want to see them succeed. I can feel the hope that flourishes here."

"Thank you, Hector, it has been some time since someone acknowledged how much I want these campers to succeed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an archery class to teach." he said, while trotting towards the archery range. Hector, turned to head towards Hestia's cabin when he ran face-first into another camper, falling down on top of them. A blush rose to his face as he realized he landed on a girl.

She took his breath away. Her golden locks fell down to just below her shoulders, and she wore a yellow tee with a sunrise beautifully depicted on it, and loose-fitting athletic shorts. Leather arm guards covered her forearms, and a beautifully crafted golden bracelet adorned her wrist. Her eyes gleamed a deep gold, like those of a god. As Hector gazed into those deep eyes, he felt something click deep within himself, and he shivered. Awkwardly, he rolled off of her and offered her his hand, helping her up.

"Hector" he said simply.

"Dawn" she replied.

Chiron watched from a distance, wondering after what he felt in the boy, as an 8 year old girl walked over, and poked him as he turned, and bowed, face full of surprise. She proceeded to talk to him in a low voice before vanishing in a pillar of flame. Chiron turned, looking at the boy who received had Hestia's blessing.

After a moment of silence, she turned away, walking briskly towards the cabin that he had come to know as Apollo's. He simply continued his walk towards Hestia's cabin, taking in the beautiful scenery around him. As he entered Hestia's cabin, he was in awe of the decorations. There was a large fire situated in the center of the cabin, and it filled him with warmth and hope. The walls were painted to resemble flames, and the paint moved and flickered like and actual fire. He simply rolled out his bedroll next to the fire, and fell into a peaceful slumber.

The days passed simply, as Hector became used to the Camp Half-Blood routine. The training, the arts and crafts, the excellent meals, and the campfire sing-alongs. However, at the end of the week, a horn blew, and he gathered with the rest of the campers. He alone didn't know what this day was, as Chiron stood to make an announcement.

"Campers!" he shouted "It is time once more for a game of capture the flag. Athena's cabin holds the laurels, and Apollo's cabin is looking to take it from them. Remember, no maiming and no killing. However, before we begin, a decision must be made. The Hestia cabin must choose a side."

At this, many campers looked around confusedly. Hestia cabin? Hestia was a maiden goddess, she had no children. The muttering increased, and before the campers started to question Chiron, I rose from the crowd, and my voice echoed as I yelled to the crowd, "The Hestia cabin will side with Apollo's". Chiron simply nodded his head as the teams separated and moved towards their respective sides.

Hector followed Dawn to where Apollo would put the flag, and once there, she looked at him with a question, and perhaps a glint of suspicion in her eyes. ¨Hestia adopted me after I ran from my real home, and adopted me, so I am technically considered a child of Hestia." She nodded in understanding and turned to the rest of the campers on their team.

Dawn outlined the strategy for the Apollo cabin, which also included the Ares and Hephaestus kids, along with Hector. As she finished, she turned to see Hector standing there, not knowing what to do as she planted the flag atop Zeus' Fist.

"Do what you wish, but I will not be responsible if you get hurt." Dawn said is she turned, "Either join us on the attack, or help the Hephaestus kids with defense."

"I will defend." he stated simply as he sat at the foot of the rocks. He leaned back and relaxed as Dawn took off through the woods. Close to an hour passed as Hector wondered if anyone would ever make it through the Hephaestus kids. Suddenly, a loud wailing noise rang through the woods as five Athena kids made it to the rock.

He rose gracefully to his feet as he tapped his arms, and the Athena kids yelled in fright as he was engulfed in flames. When the flames cleared, he stood proudly in his golden armor, with his emblazoned shield on his left arm, and his right gauntlet ablaze with flames. "You shall not know victory." he boomed, his voice deep and foreboding "Your hopes end here, with me."

One of the Athena kids simply laughed as he shot an arrow at what he believed to be a foolish boy, an obstacle to overcome in the name of his mother. Imagine his surprise when that obstacle caught his arrow, burning it in his grip before laughing a deep, booming laugh that shook them to the core. "Let the fun begin." he said as he worked the kinks out of his joints.

Dawn heard the wail of her trap go off, and she turned in surprise that the Athena kids had made it through the defenses. "Go for the flag" she ushered her squad forward as she turned and ran back to where her team's flag was, leaping from tree to tree. When she arrived, she saw a man in a suit of golden armor standing before Zeus' Fist. She started as she realized it was Hector. He held a shield with a flame pattern emblazoned on it, and he held a burning arrow in his right hand. His helmet was similar to that of the Spartans, and it shadowed his face completely. But, where the gleam that represented his eyes would've shown, there were instead empty pits, filled with slowly crackling flames.

Dawn shuddered at the sight as the Athena kids charged Hector. She drew back on her bow, ready to help, but Hector didn't need it. He simply backhanded one of them with his shield, sending him flying into a tree. Another swung his sword at him, but Hector merely caught the blade in one hand, his gauntlet and arm strength stopping the blade cold as it melted from the heat o f the flames. Hector then grabbed his arm guards, melting them together into makeshift handcuffs. The man winced from the heat as Hector shoved him away. The one with a bow nocked another arrow to the string, and as Dawn sighted him, Hector lashed out with his right hand, a whip of pure flames reaching out and snapping across the boy's face, leaving him with a thin burn and wet pants as he ran for the woods.

The two remaining kids backed off, hands in the air, as they watched the figure that decimated the other three, "Please, we surrender, don't hurt us." They said, crying as they sunk to their knees. Hector noticed that they were both female, and he decided to hold an amount of chivalry in this situation. He simply nodded and turned away from them to walk back to the Fist. The moment his back was turned, however, they drew their knives and lunged for him. He simply leaped up and over them in a backflip, landing softly and lunging for them, forcing their arms together like the boys.

"I decided to show you mercy, against my better judgement, and you repay me by trying to stab me in the back!?" he boomed at them. As his anger bloomed, they caught streaks of red shooting through his eyes, and they cowered in fear and wet themselves at the sight of the figure in front of them. Dawn gazed in awe as he began to float off the ground as his anger grew, a black and red aura surrounding him. Suddenly, he remembered Hestia's lessons, and locked his anger down, sinking towards the ground, turning towards the Fist as a horn rang through the woods.

An hour later, Chiron had tended to the wounds of the injured campers, and was making announcements for the next week. Dawn was looking sidelong at Hector, who still wore his golden armor that hid his face. Hector was thinking about how close he had come to unleashing his true power on those girls. However, as Chiron began to finish the announcements, a deep multitude of growls could be heard in the forest. Many of the campers simply stood still, frozen in fear, but Chiron, Dawn, and Hector rushed to protect the campers as a pack of hellhounds burst from the forest. Chiron and Dawn unleashed a hail of arrows that brought down all but one of the hellhounds, it leaped towards the campers, but Hector lashed out, and his whip caught it in the throat as he dragged it down to earth.

Chiron and Dawn shot at the hound, but their arrows vanished and reappeared in their hands as a rumbling voice was heard. "He must do this on his own." They stood stunned at the appearance of the voice, forced to be nothing more than onlookers in this fight.

The hound lunged towards Hector, and he simply side stepped the hound, grabbed it with his hands, and threw it towards the river. It landed with a splash as Hector shrugged his shield into position. On instinct, he held out his right hand, palm downward, and pieces of a dark metal rose from the ground, forming into a 3 foot long blade in his hand. As the stunned campers looked on, a multitude of colors shifted up and down the blade's length. Deep, midnight black, brittle, rusty red, pale, sunken grey, pale, sickly yellow, and a color that could only be described as flames as it flickered. He swung the blade experimentally, remembering Hestia's long ago words as he thanked his father for the weapon.

The hellhound looked at him with fear in its eyes, but it still lunged at him, determined to prove its honor. This time, he simply let it run into his shield, and as it did, he thrust the blade up into its chest with such force that his hand emerged on the other side of the hellhound, its still-beating heart impaled upon the sword. However, instead of turning into gold dust as its brethren did, the hellhound melted into shadows that flew to Hector.

As they made contact, he let out an earth-shattering scream as his armor and clothes began to flicker as an intricate tattoo of a hellhound appeared on his right arm, snaking its way up to his shoulder. Hector collapsed from the pain as Chiron slowly walked over to him, picking him up and carrying him to the Big House.

As he went, Dawn walked up next to him, carrying Hector's sword, marveling at its lightness and the way it shifted and shimmered as she looked at it. "What is this made of Chiron? It's not Celestial Bronze, Imperial Gold, or Stygian Iron." She looked up at Chiron as he gazed sadly down at her, wrapped in memories from an earlier time.

"I have seen something of its like before, but the memory seems to elude me as I search it out." he said sadly, shaking his head. "It strikes a chord of pain in my heart, but also one of anger. Call a counselor meeting. We have much to discuss."

Shortly after, the room in the Big House was filled with the current counselors at camp. The Stolls, Will, Nico, Malcolm, Katie, Clarisse, many of the heroes of both wars sat at this table. As Chiron emerged from a separate room of the Big House, they all began to talk at once.

"Who is that?"

"What happened earlier?"

"How did the hounds get into camp?"

"Silence!" demanded Chiron as the room quieted immediately. "I do not know how the hounds got into the camp, and I don't really know who Hector is or what he did, but we will find out. He will wake shortly, and we will ask him our questions-¨

"And if he doesn't answer?" asked Will softly, already knowing the answer.

¨We make him answer, or else.¨Clarisse said as she slid her thumb across her throat. The door to the other room creaked, and Hector emerged, looking exhausted.

"The fleece." he said "something is wrong."

Before anyone could react to his appearance or words, Rachel Dare burst through the door, green smoke oozing from her mouth as her voice rasped "_I am the Oracle of Delphi, Speaker of Phoebus Apollo, Slayer of Python. Approach seeker, and ask._"

"How will I find that which has been stolen?" said Hector.

"_Four shall go to find the lost skin,_"

"_Leading the front is Tartarus' kin,_"

"_Half at the start, and half on the way,_"

"_In the lair of the faded, their prize doth lay,_"

"_In hallowed hills, a hero's last stand,_"

"_Shall unleash fury 'cross the land._"

She collapsed to the ground and two leapt from their seats to move her to the couch. The other campers started to hotly debate the prophecy before Chiron silenced them. "This is a disturbing revelation. It seems this quest will have to be led by a monster. I guess I must finally leave the camp." he sighed in defeat.

"No Chiron, you don't." Hector said, his voice once again deep and booming, his sword in his hand, shifting and shimmering.

"N-no, it can't be!" Chiron slowly walked towards Hector as the memories clicked into place. A hologram appeared above Hector's head as all the demigods knelt, but it was a hologram they had never seen before, it was a swirling image of a deep pit. Resigned, Chiron intoned "All Hail Hector Jones, son of Tartarus, Home of Monsters, Primordial of the Pit." Hector merely sighed as his suspicions were confirmed. "You are the leader of this quest, you may choose your first companion. The Fates were clear that two more will join you on the way."

"I would know if any of you would follow me in my quest." Hector said as he walked towards the door, expecting no answer. His hand halted an inch from the door knob as someone responded.

"I will." said Dawn as she stood from her chair.

"Go get your rest." said Chiron, "You leave tomorrow at first light."


End file.
